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Angel’s Garage was not in a place most people knew, it was stuck down a country road a couple miles outside of New York City. They specialized in the restoration and repair of vintage cars, more specifically American muscle cars. The owner, Sam, was an ex-flyer with the US army so it wasn’t unusual to see military type people hanging out in the shop. On his pay roll were Bucky Barnes, college drop-out, and Natasha Romanoff, ex-Russian ballerina. No one in the city would even look their way, but Sam knew they were good people and he knew they had a way with cars. Together they operated the shop almost alone, meaning that Sam could leave them to work his second job in the city.
The low growl of Natasha’s 1963 corvette bounced off the walls of the garage. She parked square in the middle of the shops logo, two arching mechanical wings. She bounced out of the car, her red hair cut short around her jaw. She walked past the front glass door, waving at Sam. He gave her a quick wave and went back to working on paper work, something he couldn’t convince any of them to do. The garage’s main door was open and a pretty blue ’63 Impala was sitting up on blocks right inside the entrance. She wove around the car to find two long, black jean clad legs sticking out from under the left side. Walking past, she made a point to kick the booted feet attached to the legs. Bucky aimed a kick back at her but missed and only succeeded in sending a few tools clattering across the floor. Up above them on a catwalk sat a skinny, blonde-haired boy with a sketchbook propped on his knees. Nat looked up and smiled at him, “Morning Steve!”
Steve waved back, his fingers coated in black dust. “Morning!”
Steve didn’t actually work at the garage, nor was he paid too. He attended the art school a few streets over and hung out in the shop before and after class. Sam let him stick around because he liked the kid and Bucky seemed happier when Steve was around. Besides, Sam also had a soft spot for Steve’s Alaskan malamute, Riley. He made sure to never be in their way and mostly just sat up on the catwalk sketching. Sam had even paid him to paint the logo on the side of the garage. Riley had the same quiet demeanor, though he made no attempt to not get into everyone’s, especially Sam’s, way. In fact, Riley currently had his massive head in Sam’s lap and was slowly drooling on him.
Bucky moved out from under the car and came up beside Natasha. He had a grease streak running across his forehead and his hair was slowly escaping its bun. “I fixed the slipping issue with the gears but I can’t tighten the loose parts on the front axle. Think you can get into the spot? It’s a tight fit.”
“Yeah, sure.” She pulled a headband over her hair. “If you can work on the Nova, the owner’s coming to get it at 10.”
Bucky looked over at the garage’s other bay where a green Nova sat. The car only had an oil and filter change left before it was done with its scheduled check-up. “Got it.”
Nat made her way to the Impala and Bucky went to the Nova. They often worked together in companionable silence, neither one speaking, just working in the low hum of the garage. While Bucky worked on the Nova he glanced up at Steve, who was just looking at the garage wall. “Hey, Steve! Wanna help me?”
“Oh, um, sure.” Steve scrambled up from his spot and made his way down from the catwalk. He came over to Bucky’s side, his shoulders slumped at an uncertain angle. He knew Bucky was just being nice, and that he was probably going to screw this up. Somehow.
Bucky moved in front of the open hood. “Okay, so I need you to get me the right kind of oil for the car and I’m replacing the filter, so I need a new one of those too. They’re against the back wall. It’s a 1976.”
While Steve scanned the back wall, Bucky worked on taking out the old filter and draining the old oil. Triumphant, Steve came back with a filter in hand and a bottle of oil. He rested against the car while Bucky worked. After a while he glanced at his phone. “Oh shit.”
Bucky’s head jerked up, his body going into rigid. “What?”
“I’m gonna be late to class.” Steve sighed heavily and scrubbed his face with his hands.
“Oh.” His shoulders relaxed. “I’ll drive you if you want.”
Steve looked at him hopefully, “Really?”
“Duh, grab your shit and let’s go.” Steve smiled in relief and ran into the office to grab his backpack. Riley followed him out, wagging his tail. Steve looked at Bucky with a slight pout, and he waved the dog into his car with a huff. He liked Riley, but the dog left hair all over his baby. Getting into his car, he called out to Sam, “I’ll be right back! The Nova’s good to go.”
Sam didn’t bother to reply, just waved at them as they left. As the car disappeared down the road, Sam made his way into the main garage where Natasha was perched on the impala’s hood. He made a whip cracking noise as their eyes met. This made Natasha dissolve into a giggling fit. “Oh man,” Sam laughed, “that boy has got it bad.”
“The question is, though, which one has it worse?” Nat cleaned grease off of her hands, a broad smile on her lips. “We got to do something.”
“Buck’ll kill us.”
“Worth. It. This pinning from afar shit is just sad. Like high school romance sad.” They nodded together. Sam left her to work on the cars and Bucky came back a few minutes later. Riley jumped out of the car, his head held high as he carried around a large bone. Nat raised a single brow and looked between the dog and Bucky.
“I wanted to get a drink. And it was on sale.” Bucky did his best to scowl at her.
“You know spoiling his dog is a really dumb way of telling him you like him.”
Bucky nearly choked on the water he was drinking. “I’m not! I don’t!”
“Oh come on Barnes,” She sighed dramatically, “He’s in love with you and you’re head over heels for him.”
“He is not in love with me.” Bucky snapped. Then he paused for a minute. His voice was a little to hopeful, “Why did he say something?”
“You ever seen his sketchbook?” Natasha was smirking now, slowly backing Bucky into a corner.
“No. Why?”
“The whole thing is pictures of you. All of it. Every page.”
“He never shows it to anyone, how would you know?”
“I observe and see.” Meaning that she really snuck it out of Steve’s bag one day when he was sleeping on the couch in the office, but that was invasion of privacy and her secret.
“Bull.” Bucky nearly flipped her off but turned instead and went towards the back of the shop where Sam’s 1968 mustang sat on blocks. The car had been beautiful once, before the engine had caught on fire. A fire that had resulted in the loss of Bucky’s left arm and the car being burned inside out. He’d gotten a prosthetic from Stark Industries and Sam left the car as a slow fix up project when they didn’t have customers. His arm felt heavy today, it was far more advanced than anything on the market and may have been just this side of illegal, but Stark liked their garage and often brought some of his cars into the shop. So, he’d made sure Bucky’s life wasn’t over and had paid Steve’s medical expenses. The thought made Bucky shutter. Steve had been in the car too. His asthma triggered by the fire and his shoulders had permanent scars from the burns. It had been a freak accident. Sam had loaned them the car for a show in Florida, they never made it all the way there.
They went back to silence, working together on various projects. The Nova was picked up by one of Sam’s army buddies. No one else stopped by until about 3 o‘clock when a gorgeous 1969 Yellow Boss 302 mustang pulled into the drive-way. Both Nat and Bucky looked up at the car, even Sam came out of the office to see it. Their mouths dropped when Steve stepped out of the passenger’s side. A blonde-haired man with tattoos on his arms came out from the driver’s side. He walked up with Steve into the garage.
“Damn son.” The words were out of Sam’s mouth before he even had a chance to think about them. Natasha just nodded her head in agreement.
The blonde laughed and Steve shuffled his feet a little. “Uh, this is Clint. He… uh… goes to school with me. We have still-figure drawing together. He’s like the best in class, he also likes to shoot stuff with a bow.”
“Well just tell them my whole-life story Stevie.”
Steve blushed and looked at his feet. “This is Natasha, Sam, and Bucky.”
Clint smiled and shook each of their hands, “Hi. Steve’s a terrible liar by the way, he’s the best in our class. Though I do like shooting things with a bow.” He threw a wink at Natasha, who arched a brow at him.
“Whatever.” Steve rolled his eyes. “Clint gave me a ride ‘cause he saw me walking. But he’s gonna come back tomorrow to get his car looked at. If that’s okay?”
Sam nodded vigorously, “Anytime man, anytime.”
They chatted companionably for a while, not even noticing that Bucky had walked away and was in the back of the shop with the ’68. Steve and Clint laughed and told stories about class. Clint was a performing arts major but took some art classes for his electives. He and Natasha talked about their childhoods, Clint had grown up in a circus and understood the pressure to perform well or risk being looked at as a failure. Sam had rarely heard Nat speak of her childhood and knew to never pry. Steve looked at Clint with aw, a small smile constantly on his face. Eventually, Clint showed them his hearing aids and told them a story about losing his hearing when he was a teenager. He had to leave the circus after that because it threw off his balance and he was dangerously close to falling off the tightrope.
The next morning Steve, Nat, and Clint where already there when Bucky pulled up in his red 1969 ZL1 Camaro. He got out of the car wearing the same clothes as yesterday, his hair was a disaster, and dark circles where under his eyes. He huffed a greeting but didn’t smile when Steve waived at him. They all exchanged looks. Clint laughed and drew them back into the conversation. “So I’m a ford guy, and Nat is just a car person, what are you Steve?”
Steve looked over at Bucky, worry pulling at his mouth. He blushed a little. “I… uh… like Camaros.”
“More like what comes in Camaros.” Natasha coughed under her breath, earning a shocked gasp from Steve and a snorted laugh from Clint.
Clint became a regular figure in the shop, his car earning an honorary spot next to Natasha and as far away from Bucky as possible. Sam just accepted it and often geeked out with Clint about all things Ford and even went to cat shows with him and Hawkeye, Clint’s fond name for his car. Hawkeye started a tradition in the garage and all of the cars earned names. Nat called her car the Black Widow and Sam called his truck Falcon. They even called Bucky’s car the Winter Soldier, when he wasn’t in ear shot of course. The ’68 mustang was fondly named Captain.
After a couple of weeks, Clint pulled into the shop. He was tugging at his collar nervously and kept fiddling with his hearing aids. He walked into the garage to find Bucky welding together the new body for Captain, color swatches scattered around him. Clint cleared his throat. Bucky didn’t hear him. He coughed louder and walked closer. Bucky stopped and lifted the shield away from his face. “Uh… is Nat here?”
Bucky crossed his arms, “Is her car here?”
“No…” Clint looked around.
“Then she ain’t here.” He looked at him hard, “Steve ain’t here, either.”
“I’m just looking for Nat, actually.”
“Oh?”
“Uh… yeah…” They had an uncomfortable stare off. He knew Bucky didn’t like him for some reason, never laughed at his jokes and never smiled when he stopped by, but maybe he would understand. “I… um… this is going to sound stupid. But I want to ask her to go with me to the car show this weekend, as like a date thing. She probably won’t want to go. You know what never mind. I’m being stupid.”
“You want to ask Natasha on a date?” Bucky sounded bewildered.
“Yes?”
“Fuck.” Bucky dropped his head and sighed. He scrubbed his eyes the same way Steve did. “Jesus man, I thought you were hitting on Steve.”
Clint’s mouth dropped. A sudden laugh bubbled in his chest and before he knew it they were both cracking up. “Oh god, no. Oh man, I mean not that Steve ain’t something, but dude, he wouldn’t go for anyone who wasn’t you.”
“I have been such an ass to you.” Bucky looked at him sheepishly.
“It’s fine, now that I know why. No, okay see here’s the thing. I’ve known Steve for a while and he always talks about you two. Anyway he kept telling me how much he thought Nat and I would get along so eventually one day he managed to get me over here to meet her. And he was right, she’s great. I mean, a little intimidating, but great.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Man, no worry.”
“You should ask her, she’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“You should ask Steve, too.”
Bucky nodded and went back to working on the car. Between parts he chatted with Clint and realized why the rest of them liked him so much.
The car show was fun, even with Steve asking every six seconds what kind of car it was they were looking at. The end of the show lot housed mustangs and cougars, Clint had put Hawkeye in and Sam was watching all of their cars. Bucky and Natasha shared a look between them as they approached Clint’s car. Parked next to it was a red mustang with white stripes running down the hood and thin blue stripes running on the edges of the white. Steve walked a lap around the car, looking at the detail. The inside had light interior with red stitching. “What year model is this one?”
“A ’68.” Clint offered, he looked at Bucky quizzically.
“Wow.” He looked at the car again. “Where’s the owner?”
“Oh,” Bucky shrugged pulling a set of keys from his pocket, “you know him.”
“Holy shit, is that Sam’s car?”
Bucky laughed, “Nope, it’s yours.” Steve looked at him with confusion. “I bought it off of Sam a few weeks ago and pulled a few all-nighters to finish her up.”
The kiss was quick and Bucky almost forgot to breathe. They got a cat-call from Clint and a whoop-whoop from Natasha, along with a few barks and a happy slobbering from Riley who just liked when people cheered.